


Like Toxin

by clarkesbell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Episode: s06e12 Adjustment Protocol, F/M, Hallucinations, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 02:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbell/pseuds/clarkesbell
Summary: After inhaling the toxin, Bellamy confesses his love for Clarke in a hallucination in front of Echo.





	Like Toxin

The screams were growing louder from the outside.

Bellamy blinked to adjust his eyes to the sudden darkness of the container where he and his friends were now locked up in order to protect themselves from the attacks of the people of Sanctum, who were under the hallucinating effect of the toxin Russell had released.

He was vaguely aware that his hands were shaking, but the need to remain calm and find a solution to the situation was more important than dealing with his own fears. If he allowed himself to think that most of his friends were still under Russell's power, that Madi was at the mercy of his enemies or that he had allowed Clarke to infiltrate the lions' den shortly after getting her back, he wouldn’t be able to help anyone.

"Bell?"

He felt Octavia's hand finding his in the dim light and looked down at her, recognizing the slight squeeze she gave his hand.

"She'll make it," Octavia stated, her determination igniting the hope inside him once more. She had said the same before Clarke had dropped the radiation shield and she had been right. He never doubted Clarke for a second, but the fear of losing her again was too great to ignore.

"Bellamy," Miller said worriedly, "I'm not sure the door will hold much longer."

And as if by a prank with perfect timing set by fate itself, the container door began to be pushed by the people outside. The sound of angry fists against the steel created an unbearable cacophony in the place and Bellamy had to suppress the urge to press his hands against his ears.

_Think_, he commanded himself, wishing Clarke was there. It wasn’t just the need for a leader beside him, but the need for _Clarke_. He never wanted to go along with that plan; sending her back to the place where she had been literally killed was insane and cruel.

Cruel to her.

Cruel to him.

He didn't want to lose her again.

_Stop_. If he wanted to survive, he would have to stop thinking about Clarke. The thought was almost comical; he felt like all he ever did was think about her and her well-being. It was uncontrollable, she was like his particular toxin and he didn't care at all to let her take control.

_But not now_. Now, he needed to wipe his sweaty hands on his pants and think.

“Okay, we need a barricade. We hold the door and _only_ attack if they at—” Bellamy swallowed his own words as the sound of glass being broken hit his ears, but he couldn’t identify the window that had been targeted by the people who were under induced psychosis outside because of the thin layer of green mist that was suddenly surrounding him and his friends.

_The toxin_.

He gripped the fabric of his shirt in an almost desperate attempt to cover his nose and prevent the toxin from having any effect on him and felt his knees buckle before he fell to the floor. Coughing to expel the contaminated air from his lungs, he flexed his knees and released his shirt. Bellamy looked up and squinted into the dim light, as if searching for something he didn't even know what it was. _What am I doing here?_ He frowned to himself, frantically looking around only to find nothing and no one.

_What’s my last memory?_ Rummaging through his mind insistently, he grunted when, _again_, he found only a blank space.

"Bellamy?"

His eyes lifted to meet Clarke's familiar face and he felt his lungs heavily expelling air from the relief that consumed his body. However, the recent memories of him letting her part ways with him in order to deceive Russell and try to save their people crossed his mind like a bullet through his skull and Bellamy gasped.

"You're here," he stated, absorbing the shock he heard in his own voice.

Clarke nodded, the locks of golden hair dancing around her face like a halo and contrasting with the black clothes as she walked slowly toward him. She looked like a Prime — like Josephine — but her eyes were the same old wells of tenderness and kindness.

"Yes."

"But how... _how?_"

"It doesn’t matter now. We'll be fine, Bellamy.”

He tried to get up but felt his knees buckle, either from the thrill of having her safe and sound with him or from his ignorance regarding the most recent events. There was still a lapse in his memory and for some unknown and infuriating reason, he still couldn’t remember everything that had occurred that night, what he was doing there in that dark room or how Clarke had suddenly appeared; but he was mostly certain that she couldn’t have gotten into that place without being seen by anyone and the last memory he had of Clarke was seeing her running to the opposite side for a rescue mission.

But his mind suppressed those thoughts unwittingly and he wasn’t able to put them in a coherent question. What he said next instead sounded exponentially concerned:

“Did they hurt you? Did they… did they do something to you?”

Clarke stopped a few feet away from him, clasping her hands in front of her body. He felt the urge to stand up and touch her to make sure she was all right and unharmed, but his body didn't seem to obey.

"No, I'm fine," she confirmed with a smile. "I promise."

He swallowed hard, feeling a crease form on his forehead as he remembered the mistake he had made in leaving her alone again. He had promised to stay by her side after literally losing her and the first thing he had done upon entering Sanctum was letting her go.

"God, I was _so_ worried."

"I wouldn’t let you down."

"No… it’s not that," he hastened to say, surprised with the fact that she could even think that he was more concerned about their plan instead of her safety. “I never doubted you, it’s just… I just lost you. You were_ dead_ just a few hours ago, I can't…” Bellamy paused, harboring the sense of terror and helplessness he had felt the moment Clarke's heart stopped beating. When he looked at her motionless body, he thought he would never be able to breathe again. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened again. I should've gone with you."

“I'm here now. I’m fine. I just need to make sure our people are, too.”

Bellamy frowned at her, his stomach twisting at the anticipation of the explanation of her words, for he had a vague idea of what she meant. But in a hopeful move, he asked:

"What do you mean?"

"I need to go outside."

_False gods. Toxin. Priya being killed. Screams. Death._

Suddenly all the memories of the last few minutes returned and Bellamy stared at Clarke, trying to hear the angry screams he had heard just minutes ago outside, but failing miserably. Because the only thing he could hear was his own heart pumping against his ears.

"_No_."

"I need to save them."

"You'll _die_ if you go outside," he argued, surprised by the false calmness with which he managed to deliver that sentence. He knew Clarke better than himself: if he appeared to be out of control, she would try to persuade him into letting her do it her way because he was the heart and she was the head — she would say he was just being impulsive and thinking too much with his emotions and try to make him see the logic in her plan, even though he knew there was none. If he tried to balance his emotions, however, she would be more likely to accept his opinions. Or so he hoped.

"I won’t."

"Clarke, you remember the red sun, don’t you?" he said, his voice rising slightly before he could control it. "These people are under the same effect."

Clarke watched him with a passive expression, as if he was commenting on some occurrence she had no interest in; as if she didn’t remember, just as clearly as he did, that he tried to kill her. He had his hands around her neck and sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he swore he could still feel her heart pounding against her throat where his thumbs had pressed her skin. He couldn’t understand how close he was to ending her life when all he ever did was take care of it as if it was his own. Only her life was more valuable than his, he had no doubt about that.

"Bellamy, I have to go."

It was almost robotic, automatic, as if she was just quoting phrases from a script that made no sense. Bellamy gritted his teeth in frustration, clenching his fists around the fabric of his own shirt until he felt his nails puncturing his palms.

"_No_. No, you can't… I won't let you go. Not again. You don’t get to leave me again, Clarke. I lost my _fucking_ mind when you died, I… I can't.”

"Nothing will happen."

"_Yes, it will!_" he countered in a scream that startled himself, but had no effect on Clarke. He could feel the tears prickling his eyes, desperation curling around his heart and threatening to tear it to shreds. But she didn't even flinch and he wished he could be able to stand and hold her face in his hands and beg her to listen. But his stupid legs seemed to be paralyzed. “Why are you even _thinking_ about this? It doesn’t make sense, _you’re _not making sense. How will you help anyone by going outside? You have to stay here.”

"I'm trying to be better," she said, sliding her eyes to the floor.

"_We are _being better! _We are_, Clarke. Look at me. Just look at me, _please_.”

She looked up at him, and his pleading seemed to have had some effect, because her eyes were watery now. He felt his heart breaking into tiny pieces.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, frustrated, trying to contain his choked voice. He didn't understand what was going on — Clarke always used logic, she would never do something as reckless as putting herself in danger for no reason. And walking into the middle of a sea of crazy people had no purpose, except being a suicide mission. The comprehension felt like a knife twisting in his chest; he breathed hard before continuing: “You gave up before. You gave in to Josephine, but… but you fought. I know you want to live, I thought… I _thought_ you wanted to live.”

Clarke looked away again, and even in the dim light he could see her swallowing hard, confirming his worst fear.

"Why are you still trying to save me?" she asked softly.

The question felt like a slap in the face.

"Because you’re worth it."

She shook her head, her eyes roaming the place without ever stopping over him.

"After everything I've done…" she whispered, so low that he doubted even hearing it.

“You called me every day for six years and you left me to die in that fighting pit,” he said; there was no accusation or contempt in his tone or his words, but he could see the guilt and shock shining in her eyes when she turned them back to him.

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy."

"And I didn't understand it at first because I was so… I was _hurt_."

"I know. I'm sorry, I _am_,” she repeated, her chin quivering slightly indicating the tears she seemed to be holding back. He didn't want her to cry; no, those memories had a purpose, there was a reason for them. Bellamy didn't blame her for any of this and she needed to know that. They hadn’t had time to talk about the calls or about her leaving him behind, even though he wanted to. Maybe they had been waiting on one another and when neither of them addressed those issues, they just let it go. Because it hurt. But if part of her still believed she didn't deserve to live for what she had done, he would play that role. He would make her believe that she _did_.

“But you saved us so many times. You saved _me_ so many times, _before and after_ that. Madi was your only support for six years because I didn't get out of that fucking rocket to stay behind with you. It’s what I should’ve done. And when the time came, you chose her. Because I betrayed you, because she’s your daughter, because she’s your family. I know that now. I don’t need to forgive you, but if _you_ need that… then I forgive you, Clarke. Just... _please,_ stay inside with me. I need to know that you’re safe. I can't do it again, I can't watch you die again.”

“Bellamy—”

"Don't leave me," he pleaded, his throat raw with the tears he was swallowing so hard, like a pill that gets stuck in the throat and chokes. She shrank her shoulders, knitting her eyebrows in pain at him.

"It's not that simple."

"I need to know you won't give up."

“There are some things you can't—”

"_I love you_."

The words came desperately and hurriedly from his lips without his being able to stop them, and at that moment Bellamy realized three things: one, he had never said those words to anyone else; two, he knew he had loved her for a really long time, but never had the courage to admit it aloud because it would make it seem real; and three, he was completely surrendered to her.

He knew that the time he spent in the ring mourning her hadn’t been a normal state of grief. He was well aware that if it had been any of his friends staying behind, he would have wept, questioned the justice of such a sudden and cruel death and moved on. But he never moved on after Clarke. And when he returned to Earth with a completely different mindset from six years earlier and found Clarke — his Clarke, with the sapphire eyes that seeped into his dreams at night and the soft ivory skin whose texture his fingertips vividly remembered, alive as if by a miracle — everything seemed to fall into place again.

But now he had a girlfriend and hundreds of doubts in his head; doubts that concerned what he really felt, what Clarke felt, what was real and imagination. Because sometimes he believed she could respond to his feelings, but other times he thought he was completely distorting everything she did and said to please his own desires.

_Echo._

The name reverberated in his mind like a sarcastic chant, instigating guilt and shame. And when he noticed the shock on Clarke's face, he let out a breath, feeling his face burn immediately.

"What?" she asked, astonished.

"_Fuck._ Sorry. I'm sorry,” he repeated, holding his head in his hands and shoving it between his knees.

"Bellamy, look at me," she pleaded softly, and he hated the way the simple sound of her voice was able to make him give in so easily, because that's exactly what he did next, meeting her eyes vehemently.

Slowly, she took a few steps and crouched in front of him; their faces were close now, but he couldn’t smell her breath or her peculiar scent. She always smelled of wilderness and earth.

"Isn't it obvious?" he whispered, thinking that would help the shame dissipate. It didn’t work. He had never imagined confessing his own feelings to Clarke, because it had never even been considered. And the fact that he was in a relationship with Echo while ranting about things he had kept in his chest for so long made him feel like a terrible person. He knew that. But he also knew that he had no control over himself when Clarke's eyes were on his. “God, I was so lost when you died. Octavia told me it was useless, she gave up. Gabriel gave up. _I didn’t_. I kept pumping your heart, I blew air into your lungs, I _begged_… I couldn't give up. So, don't give up now too, Clarke. I love you.”

He didn't plan on sounding so desperate, but the tears seemed closer and closer to falling, and he could no longer contain one as Clarke moved closer, raising her hand to touch his arm. The tear made a slow path down the corner of his nose as Clarke's figure evaporated like smoke, replaced by Octavia's face; she had curved her fingers around his forearm, exactly where Clarke had tried to touch him just a second ago.

He didn't realize what was happening until he noticed his sister's alarmed look; she shook her head subtly at him.

_Hallucinations_.

Heart pounding and stomach churning, he prolonged that moment of realization to try to contain the sensation of shame that hit him the moment he scanned the room, realizing that he was being watched by at least ten pairs of curious eyes. Every face turned away, but one.

Echo.

"I…" he began, but the words choked somewhere in his throat at Echo's hurt expression.

"Bell," Octavia said softly, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his face to her. “You were hallucinating. They threw the toxin in here, but you weren't fast enough and you breathed it in.”

Bellamy looked at Echo again, who was still staring at him with a mixture of shock and contempt. He never meant to hurt her; he didn't even know that those words would come out of his mouth until they had already been said. _I love you._ Just like that. Echo had said those same words for the first time to him the morning before their return to Earth and he remembered staring at her face in disbelief and surprise, unable to form those three words in his lips and say them back.

"Sorry," he had said. "It's just… it's not that easy for me to say that."

And he wasn’t lying. But now the words had come out as easily and as naturally as breathing. And maybe that was it: loving Clarke was as natural as breathing.

"Echo..." he tried again, but she jumped to her feet, averting her eyes to the container door — a move he knew to be an excuse to hide her feelings.

“It's all clear,” she told no one in particular. The screaming had already stopped outside, as had the angry knocks on the door. "We have to go."

"Wait," he asked, but Echo started to open the door and soon the others rushed to help. Within seconds, they marched off site.

Octavia covered his hand with hers.

“Bell, not now. We have to save our people.”

He frowned in pain, shaking his head.

"I didn’t mean…"

“I know you didn’t. I tried to stop you, but you didn’t even move. It was like you weren’t even here.”

“I can’t… I didn’t know Echo was here, O. I couldn’t remember a thing. I don’t know why I said those things, I just…”

“The toxin has a way of making us realize some things,” she mentioned, and there was something about the way she said it that made Bellamy believe she had experienced the toxin’s effects herself. "Though it shouldn’t have taken you inhaling it to figure it out."

It didn’t. It wasn’t the toxin that made him figure it out and he knew it. Now he was sure he had always known that Clarke Griffin was a piece of his soul.

"Not now," he echoed his sister's words. "We have to save our people."

She nodded, squeezing his hand between hers.

"Clarke will be fine," she promised. “You know her. And when this is all over, you'll talk to her.”

Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment, nodding slowly. He could no longer deny his own feelings and the coming days would be extremely difficult, especially after what he had made Echo witness.

Opening his eyes again and taking a deep breath, he accepted Octavia's hand to stand up and found comfort in the fact that he hadn’t only hallucinated Clarke, but also her speech about how little she thought of her own life. He wasn't sure of anything in his life except that he didn't want to live in a world where Clarke Griffin didn't exist. He had already done it for six years and he wouldn’t let it happen again.

He didn’t know how the night would end or how he would muster up the courage to face Echo and apologize for everything, but he was certain that he couldn’t live another day without Clarke knowing he was in love with her. Not when their lives were always at risk, not when he was always afraid of losing her. 

He glanced sideways at Octavia and noticed the small, almost playful smile she offered him.

“Let’s save Clarke,” she said. “I’m not giving up this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped into my head the minute 6x12 ended, so I had to write it (Jason won't give it to us, we have to find a way to please ourselves). I hope you enjoyed it!  
Give me some feedback down here, I'd love to read your thoughts about it ❤️
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr. Click [here](http://clarkcsbellamy.tumblr.com/) to follow me and see me fangirling about Bellarke and Beliza all day!


End file.
